


Der zweite kleine Tod

by being_alive



Series: Kleine Tode [2]
Category: Elisabeth - Levay/Kunze
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 03:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14096349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/being_alive/pseuds/being_alive
Summary: Death's smirk widens into a smile as he continues, "If I had known that this was what would await me, I would've come back much sooner.""You should've come back sooner so that you could help me with that," you retort, eyebrows drawing together as you glare at him. Death laughs before saying, "Touché."





	Der zweite kleine Tod

**Author's Note:**

> When I wrote the first part, I had no plans to write more than one part, but then one thing led to another and here we are.

You lay on your bed, staring at the bottle of pills that you're surprised you haven't misplaced or lost yet. It's been close to a year since you last saw Death and you're not even sure if the pills are even still effective. You would ask the classmate you had bought them from, but unfortunately for you, said classmate had been arrested on possession charges close to three months ago.

You look away from the bottle on your nightstand, rolling onto your back and sighing. You miss Death more than you probably should, and while you don't have a death wish, you do wish Death was here, with you. You sigh once more and close your eyes. Memories of the last time you were with Death begin to flood your mind, unbidden but far from unwelcome. Memories of his hands on you, his fingers stroking and filling you before being replaced by something else, something much bigger and harder. Memories of your hands on him, stroking his cock to hardness. You can feel heat growing deep inside you and wetness gathering between your legs. You groan in frustration and in want, eyes opening. You look around your bedroom, hoping that perhaps Death has appeared. 

Disappointment washes over you when you find yourself to still be alone. You sigh once more, realizing that you'll have to take matters into your own hands. You suppose you could invite one of the boys you know over but you don't really want to because you know that they'll never be able to compare to the one man you wish was with you now. You unbutton your shorts before ridding yourself of them along with your underwear. You decide to leave your shirt and bra alone, partly because you don't feel like sitting up and partly because you want to relieve the ache between your legs as quickly as possible.

In some semblance of modesty, you reach around on your bed for a blanket until you find one, pulling it over yourself. You trail both hands down, over your breasts and stomach, dipping under the edge of the blanket, until you can feel skin on skin, and then lower. You rub your clit with the index finger of one hand while the other hand trails even lower until your fingers brush against the lips of your sex. You find the opening of your sex and gasp upon feeling just how wet you really are, and all from thoughts of Death. You close your eyes as you enter yourself first with one finger and then a second, all the while rubbing your clit. You picture Death, thinking of what you'd do if he were here now. In your fantasies, you can kiss him, so you do, pressing your lips against his as he grinds the hardness of his cock against you, making you moan into his mouth. Suddenly, he picks you up and lays you back on his bed. 

Because this is your fantasy, neither of you have to bother with taking your clothes off, it simply happens. He reaches down, taking his cock in hand, rubbing the head of it against your sex, taunting you, making you beg. And beg you do, until he relents and fills you with his cock. You move your fingers faster and faster, both inside of you and on your clit, so close to your tipping point that you can feel it building, building, building until it just can't hold back anymore and your orgasm crashes over you. You moan loudly enough that your parents could probably hear you from their bedroom if they hadn't been out in the city again. You wait until the aftershocks have subsided to pull your hands away and out of yourself, wiping your fingers on the underside of the blanket, making a mental note to wash it later.

When you open your eyes, Death is standing at the foot of your bed.

"Well, well, well," he begins, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. You stare at him, embarrassment making your face flush red as you wonder just how long he's been standing there and how much he might've seen and heard. You know that even despite the cover of your blanket, the movements of your hand could still be clearly seen by him.

Death's smirk widens into a smile as he continues, "If I had known that this was what would await me, I would've come back much sooner."

"You should've come back sooner so that you could help me with that," you retort, eyebrows drawing together as you glare at him. Death laughs before saying, "Touché."

"How long have you been here?" You ask, eyes meeting his. He's just as handsome as you remember him, if not more so. You suppose absence does make the heart grow fonder, or at least makes the lust grow stronger. Everything about him is just as you remember, from the shoulder-length blond hair to the dark clothing to his face, which is still much prettier than not only your own but also the faces of at least half the girls you know. You suppose that's one of the perks of not being alive, of not being human to begin with.

"Not overly long," he begins and relief begins to flood through you at the fact that he may not have seen all of what you were doing, only to immediately drain away once he continues, "But long enough to know exactly what you were doing."

Death walks closer to you and sits down on the bed, crossed-legged, looking at you. "Poor little girl, all alone under your blanket with only your hand for company."

"I'm not a little girl," you say, sitting up while also taking care to keep your lower half covered by the blanket.

"Oh, that much is obvious," Death says in reply, his green gaze dropping from your face and down, down, and down before coming back up. His eyes meet yours and then everything stills. Neither you nor he move, both waiting to see what the first move is going to be and who's going to be the one to make it.

As it turns out, Death is the one to make the first move, moving closer to you and asking, "So, who was it you were thinking of?"

Part of you wants to reply 'during what' but the rest of you knows exactly what he's referring to, asking who you were thinking of while you fucked yourself to thoughts of him. You wonder if he already knows. After deciding that he probably does, you ask in return, "Why are you asking a question you already know the answer to?"

"I was hoping you'd say it aloud," Death admits, and the next thing you know he's a mere breath away from you.

"Won't you kiss me this time?" He asks, close enough that you'd only have to tilt your head up a little to press your lips to his, his eyes burning like green fire through the darkness of his eyelashes. You want to, there's no denying that you want to, but you also would prefer to stay alive.

"No," you say, simply, and he laughs, pulling away from you and laying down on the bed next to you.

"One day you will," he says.

"One day I will," you agree before sitting up and casting your blanket aside before moving to straddle his hips. You smile as you look down at him and say, "But not today." 

His hands come up to rest on your hips as he simply looks at you through eyes half-lidded and beginning to shine with desire. You reach down to the hem of your shirt and grab it with both hands before pulling it off, tossing it elsewhere in your bedroom with perhaps more force than was strictly necessary, judging by how quickly it sails through the air before smacking into your wall. You can hear Death snicker quietly beneath you. All that remains of your clothing, not that you were wearing much to begin with, is your bra, which you quickly undo and toss in the same direction as your shirt.

Now, you're completely bare on top of Death, who comparatively remains fully clothed.

"I think you might be just a tad bit overdressed," you tell him, playing with the collar of his shirt.

"Perhaps," he says in agreement before flipping both of you over so that you're laying on your back and he's the one on top of you now, one thigh on either side of yours as he straddles you. You glare up at him as he smiles down at you, shrugging off his long coat and unbuttoning the dark shirt underneath. Your glare fades into a look of desire as he tosses both articles of clothing away and you can see him, his smooth skin and his lean frame. You move your hands to his belt and unbuckle it before pulling it free of his pants and tossing it away as well. You trail your hands up his thighs, feeling the soft material and the muscles of his thighs underneath, only stopping once your fingertips hit skin, above his waistband. 

Death looks down at you, his green eyes meeting yours, silently questioning what you're going to do next. You grin up at him, all teeth and mischief, and undo his pants before slipping one hand inside, closing your fingers around his cock. He moans, low in his throat, his hips bucking into your hand.

You wonder then if it's been as long for him as it has been for you, since you've been with anyone, but you don't dare to hope that you're the only one he's intimate with. He's Death and you're simply one of billions of people on the Earth, so you don't see why he'd be faithful to you, as much as the the thought makes jealousy surge within you. You tighten your grip on his cock, stroking him hard and fast until he's straining in your hand. You look up at his face to find his eyes, those green eyes you've dreamt of countless times by now, closed. You release his cock from your hand and his eyes open as he looks questioningly down at you.

"I want you," you say.

"Then you shall have me," he says in return, getting off you and off of the bed in order to strip himself of his boots and pants. You sit up and watch him do so, wishing you could kiss him but also not daring to, before he gets back on the bed with you. As he's crawling back onto the bed, you push him over, rolling him until he's on his back and you're above him.

Death looks up at you, one eyebrow raised. You simply smile in return before aligning your sex with his cock and sinking down onto him. He inhales sharply, his hands returning to your hips as you move on him. Your eyes flutter shut and you moan at the feeling of his cock, long and thick, inside of you. You know that what you thought earlier is correct, that you know no other man will ever compare to the one inside of you right now. You can feel his hands move from your hips, up your sides, and to your breasts. He cups them in his hands, long fingers brushing across your nipples before he catches them between his fingers and pinches and rolls them, causing you to moan once more. You fuck yourself faster and harder on him, feeling the stirrings of your second orgasm of the night growing inside of you. 

The desire to see his face, to see if he's losing it as quickly as you are, also grows inside of you, so you open your eyes and look down at him. He looks surprisingly human, his face flushed, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, as he looks up at you through heavily lidded eyes. His eyes meet yours and he trails one hand slowly down from your breasts, down your stomach, to between your legs, finding your clit and rubbing it until you're coming around his cock with a moan somehow louder than the one from your first orgasm. You ride out your orgasm on his cock and just before it's ended, Death flips the two of you over yet again so that he's on top, fucking you hard and fast until he top reaches his peak, coming inside of you with a moan from deep within his throat. 

He remains on top of you, inside of you, for several moments before pulling out and laying beside you. After not long enough, Death stands up and begins to collect his clothes, pulling them back on before coming to stand beside your bed once fully clothed. He reaches out, brushes a few strands of hair out of your face, and then turns to leave.

"Please, come back to me soon," you plead, reaching out and catching Death's wrist in your hand. He simply smiles in return.


End file.
